Winner - week 32

There were some absolute stand-out fuckwits this week. Dean Wallis was the early favourite to claim the Chad after not only being dumb enough to get caught betting on footy but making Heath Shaw look like Albert fucking Einstein by lying about it when confronted by the AFL. You are a dickhead, Dean.

A late bolter in the Chad stakes was Joan Lloyd, the 65 year-old Welsh slapper who had a boob job and claims that she has since had a string of dates with blokes aged from 24 to 50 and that they have no idea how old she is. Look, Joan, all blokes are a sucker for a big set of norks – we are fucking blinded by them, so if you’ve gone out and spent $7,000 on a nice brand new pair of happy sacks, of course you are going to get some attention from the fellas, especially Welsh blokes, 90% of whom are stonkered 100% of the time. The other 10% are Tom Jones. But once these blokes sober up and finish fiddling with ya fun bags, I’m sure they all receive a fucking horrible shock when ya drop ya Granny poo catchers - a bit like that poor cunt in the Crying Game who didn’t realise he was snogging a tranny (aka Jane Lomax-Smith) until she/he dropped his/her strides to reveal his/her meat and two veg and the fella proceeded to spew his guts up in the dunny. Anyway, Joan, despite ya expensive big, fake boobs, you didn’t win the Chad. No, this week’s Chad goes to one of the most deserving winners ever, Kevin “Roley Poley” Foley.

Has there ever been a bigger cunt than Foley? The answer is crystal clear - fuck no! Kevin Owen Foley. Just take a look at his initials – K.O.F (pronounced “cough”). Quite apt really, isn’t it, because now it’s time for Kevvy to far-KOF. His departure from politics, like his cunt mate Mike Rann-Chantelois, is long overdue. Since being elected to Parliament by a bunch of fucking wharfies in 1993, Roley Poley has excelled at being a deadset, arrogant fuckwit, with one act of pure human fuckery after another. From sprouting off his big fat mouth in Parliament to dating teenage girls to getting his big fat fucking head punched in, Kevin Foley defines the term “fuckwit”. It is no surprise that he is a Port supporter – and a fucking shit Treasurer as well. He is going to be hard to replace, as he himself said on announcing his departure, “You are going to have to find someone else to hate.” That is going to be difficult, Kevvy, but I’m sure the likes of Snelling and Koutsantonis will give it a red-hot go.

You would think that despite being an a-grade arsehole during his entire tenure in Parliament that he might leave the scene with some dignity and grace. Yeah, no fucking chance of that happening. Only last week he texted The Australian to say he and Rann-Chantelois, as Premier and Treasurer, had been a fucking great team and warned the Premier-in-waiting Jay “Fair” Weatherill to keep his hands off their legacy. What fucking legacy, Kevvy? The sale of the TAB for $23.49? The sell-off of the South-East? Ignoring rural communities? Mt Barker? St Clair? Crap public service? But Kevvy showed some remorse for his comments, “I just realised then and there, once I had done that, that I hadn’t gotten over the changes to the make-up of the cabinet and to the fact that I’m no longer treasurer, so the best thing I can do for Jay, the government and me, Kevin Foley, is get out,” he told ABC Adelaide radio. It’s the also best thing for the rest of us too, ya fuckwit. Good fucking riddance.

Despite being a bona fide shithead in Parliament, Kevvy’s best work was reserved for the bars and nightclubs of Adelaide, as “Kevvy the ladies’ man” strutted his stuff, dating a string of young fame whores (well, how else can you explain these moles going out with him?) and on many occasions getting thumped for being a loud-mouth prick with loose hands. Foley’s reaction to these incidents was usually to squeal “I’m the victim” and to cry about his lack of privacy. Well, if you play with fire, boofhead, you get burned. There is another saying too – once a fuckwit, always a fuckwit.

Never one not to big-note himself, Kevvy has claimed the AFL crowd of 30,000 at Adelaide Oval last Sunday was down to him, which was a brilliant back-flip on his position in 2008 when he put $100 million on the table and declared Football Park was the eternal home of AFL. The cunt rolled-over quicker than one of his fame whores.

According to Kevvy, aka FIGJIM, he was a fantastic Treasurer, claiming credit for the return and retention of the State’s AAA credit rating. That might be true if AAA means Argumentative Angry Arsehole. But the wanker had nothing to do with our financial AAA rating - Standard and Poor’s made it clear in its 2003 statement that the return of the rating was due to debt reductions from the sale of electricity assets - a legacy of the Olsen Liberal government.

Kevvy, let’s just call him Roley from here on in, has said one of the reasons why he was jumping ship was he was sick of “the conflict business”. “I’m really tired of arguing,” he said. "People might find that strange but I am tired of having to argue.” Well, fuckhead, if you had anything remotely intelligent to say and weren’t such a massive cockhead, we wouldn’t have to argue with you, it’s quite simple, dickhead, you really should have learnt to shut ya fucking cakehole.

But shutting the fuck up is not your style, Roley, no matter who it affects. Take, for example, the incident at this year’s Clipsal 500 when Kevvy abused a female attendant because several business people had been refused readmission to his “snouts in the trough” suite – the girl left the suite in tears and went on stress leave for the remainder of the weekend. Roley did not comment on the matter, except to say: "We all work under a lot of pressure at Clipsal." Nice one, Roley. By the looks of your 12 chins, your cholesterol works under a lot of pressure too.

Roley also has a really, really shit memory. He actually apologised once, to parliament for an "oversight" that caused him to mislead the house on the cost of the Adelaide Oval redevelopment. Roley admitted he had not recalled a briefing, a month before the state election, in which he was told the costs were well in excess of the government's $450 million funding commitment. He had previously told parliament that, "I was not made aware in any way, shape or form prior to the election that the $450m would not be sufficient". But the cunt lied. Roley told parliament that, "it was my honest and genuine belief that I provided the most accurate information possible. Madam Speaker, when I provided my answers to questions from the opposition during the last week of sitting, I did not recall this meeting and the discussions that occurred," Roley told parliament. Is that because you were a) pissed b) had just been punched out c) too busy trying to get a root or d) all of the above?

When Roley, from here on in known as Fat Boy, got the arse as Treasurer and Deputy Premier, he took on the role as Minister for Police and Motorsport. Controversy followed in both portfolios. When allegations were raised in court about his behaviour in the lead-up to getting his lights punched out in front of the Marble Bar, Fat Boy called a press conference to call the allegations “outrageous” and said he “immediately sought legal counsel to sue for defamation” after the Advertiser reported details aired during the court hearing. Very dumb, Fat Boy. If something is said in court, then it is not defamatory and cannot result in a lawsuit. It is how the court operates, and Fat Boy, as Police Minister should have been well aware of this. But according to Fat Boy, it was important that he made a “definitive statement to ensure my good character is preserved in this.” Hahahaha. Good character? Don’t make me fucking laugh. If you call being a blubbering goose with a “punch-me” sign tattooed on his forehead “good character” then, yeah, go ahead and preserve it.

Lawyers for Fat Boy's alleged attacker, Ante Grgich, said Fat Boy had "confronted, accosted and attempted to force himself" on two young women before he was allegedly assaulted outside the Marble Bar. Of course, Fat Boy has denied it.

Now, sticking to the same case, security footage of Fat Boy walking down Hindley Street on the night of the incident has been mysteriously erased. Is that because Fat Boy was a) pissed b) had just been punched out c) busy trying to get a root or d) all of the above?

When the shit hit the fan, old Fat Boy tried on a nice sob story in the Advertiser in a futile attempt at getting some sympathy. In an absolute piece of dribble, Fat Boy described himself as "a bit of a lost soul" and "a lonely guy" and had been "to hell and back" over the past two years. “Hell and Back” must be a nightclub on Hindley Street.

"There were occasions when the public scrutiny on me, and being in a fairly down place, I thought about chucking it in and running away to where nobody knows me," he said in the interview. Well, why the fuck didn’t you do us all a favour and do it?

"But that was a dumb idea and common sense kicks in fairly quickly. And certainly I haven't thought about that in recent times at all but, there is an emptiness in my life that I haven't been able to fill." Well, you certainly had no trouble in filling that emptiness in your guts though, Fat Boy.

Fat Boy, from here on in known as Blubber Boy, became choked up and teary during the interview. He said he believed his troubles were a delayed reaction to a mutual decision with ex-wife Cathy to divorce in 2003. Cathy, on the other hand, I'm sure, would think it was the best fucking move she ever made.

While he had several relationships following the break-up, it was the split with regular root Emma Forster in 2007 that he said sent him spiralling down into "dark places". He sought counselling to help overcome the despair. I didn’t know they offered counselling services at the Marble Bar.

The normally loud mouth wanker admitted his public behaviour in the past few years hadn't always been good. He offered himself to colleagues as an alternative leader to Mike Rann one night when pissed at Parliament House. No doubt his colleagues pissed themselves laughing at that suggestion.

In the interview, Blubber Boy said he “didn't like people thinking he was a bully”. Nah, we don’t think you are a bully - we think you are a complete fucking bastard. He said the personal trauma of trying to find a partner and relationship to replace his marriage of more than two decades had put enormous stress on him and continued to trouble him. "I'm a lonely guy, but I can't be in a relationship for the sake of it. I want to find a partner that I can settle down with, and have a long-term relationship, a loving relationship, like I had with Cath," he said. Is that why you keep chasing blonde teenage fame whores, Blubber Boy?

"I do not enjoy being a single guy any more. I don't like the sort of stuff you do as a single guy in terms of having to meet people." That probably explains why you keep getting bashed up, fatty.

Blubber Boy said he despaired of finding the right woman because "once they know what I do for a living, they run a million miles an hour". It is not so much what you do for a living that makes them run a million miles an hour, dickwad, it is your fucking pig-headed arrogance, not to mention those 12 fucking chins.

"But make no mistake. I don't like my personal life now. I am lonely. And that has affected my work," he said. How could you be lonely with all those fame whores, and not to mention those 12 fucking chinny chin chins. It didn’t appear to have affected your off-field performances though. Just check-out the footage on You Tube of Blubber Boy, from here on in known as Kenny Kockhead, singing at a late-night karaoke bar in Adelaide one weekend. It was a superb rendition of the Kenny Rogers classic "The Gambler".

The mobile phone footage was taken by 23-year-old bookshop assistant Romi Graham, who was in the La Sing Karaoke Restaurant, located in a popular city entertainment strip, when Kenny Kockead took to the stage.

You've gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em
know when to walk away, know when to run
You don't count your money when you're sitting at the table
There'll be time enough for counting when the dealing's done.

Prophetic words, indeed.

When Kenny Kockhead resigned as Treasurer and Deputy Premier not long after, he stated,"I'm quite relaxed, quite comfortable and excited about my future and that of this Labor Government," Kenny Kockhead said. He said there was no one thing which had made him decide to step down. "It is time for Kevin Foley to give way to younger, talented people who will take this Labor government to the next election and win, and win beyond that," he said. "I am a realist. I know that for a lot of South Australians they thought that I was too arrogant, that I was too much of a bully boy, too outspoken, too direct, too strong in my approach. I apologise for that if that's upset people." Too late for apologies, fuckface. And that apology was about as sincere as Dean Wallis saying he has only had 3 punts on the footy.

"It's not been easy," he said. Yeah, not easy on the general public, fuckwit, or on the fists of those blokes who have stepped up to give you a well-deserved hiding. "I have enjoyed being this state's deputy premier and treasurer", said Kenny Kockhead, from here on in known as Wang Wang.

You would think that after Wang Wang stepped down as Treasurer and Deputy Premier, that he might have settled down a bit? Nup, wrong again. Soon after becoming Police Minister, Wang Wang was grabbed by the throat and thrown against a toilet wall in a city nightspot. A teary Wang Wang walked out of a press conference about the incident and said intense public scrutiny directed at him made it often difficult to do his job. How fucking hard is it to sit in the zoo and eat bamboo all day, ya lazy fat cunt? Wang Wang said he was in an Adelaide restaurant around 9.30pm on the Saturday night in question when a man yelled at him from across the room and challenged him to meet him in the toilet. Wang Wang said he ignored the incident and went to the toilet about 20 minutes later believing the threat had passed. He said he was then confronted by three large men. One burst in and grabbed Wang Wang around the throat and shoved him against the wall, he said. Others then stepped in to pull the man away. Wang Wang left the press conference with tears welling in his eyes (obviously those 12 chins were cutting off circulation to his brain). Questioned about why he continued to go out late at night unprotected by security staff, an emotional Wang Wang said "I've got to have a life. I wasn't so much involved as was the victim," he said. Wang Wang, you are a fucking panda, your life is eating, shitting and sleeping and not necessarily always in that order.

"I felt extremely threatened and scared. I took it upon myself to call the police. I was concerned about my safety and that of my guest." No surprises to find that Wang Wang never pressed charges. Is that because Wang Wang was a) pissed b) had just been punched out c) busy trying to get a root or d) all of the above?

Channel 10 aired claims by a friend of an 18-year-old woman that Wang Wang would not leave her alone inside the bar. The woman's friend accused Wang Wang of being "sleazy and inappropriate". "He came over and approached my friend and asked her if she wanted to dance," the woman claimed. "She said 'No', and he kind of stood there and wouldn't leave us alone. "So I said to him, 'She said no, so you need to leave', and he told me that I wasn't a very nice person and walked off. To me, he did seem as though he had been drinking quite a bit. I just don't feel like he would put himself in that kind of position if he hadn't been drinking quite a lot. Regardless if it was . . . a politician or anything like that, for someone of his age to be asking younger girls to dance and not leaving it go, that to me is quite sleazy and inappropriate." Fucking spot on.

As a result of this incident, Wang Wang did his nut during a radio interview with the ABC’s Matthew Abraham and David Bevan. "People like you ..., and others in this town, like to fan the flames of hate and ridicule and a poisonous attitude that has clearly developed in Adelaide when it comes to Kevin Foley, I have to go out an live with that. I cry from time to time, that's the emotional side of Kevin Foley. It doesn't mean I am a bad or weak person. It doesn't mean I am incapable of doing my job. I'm not going to let the Liberals get to me, I'm not going to let the bikies get to me, I'm not going to let thugs and mugs and nasty vicious people drive me out of the job." Nah, dickhead, you did that all by yourself.

Wang Wang insisted he was doing nothing wrong when he was verbally abused by three men and then attacked by a "very strong, very tall, very mean-looking guy" in the toilet on that fateful Saturday night. "I was very scared Saturday night, I was thumped ... months ago within an inch of my life (and) all you guys can be worried about is all the salacious gossip and all the reasons that might have been behind me getting hit which were all complete bullshit. I am the victim here." Victim, my arse.

Wang Wang likes dishing it out but clearly does not like taking it. He has launched a defamation action against Port Adelaide Enfield Mayor Johanson, after claiming the Mayor was maliciously spreading false rumours to reporters, MPs and others that he had taken an underage girl to a cocktail party aboard the HMAS Arunta. After publicly confronting Mr Johanson at the Clipsal 500 (as well as abusing female staff), Wang Wang has said his companion was a 31-year-old former Polish naval lieutenant named Funi.

Mr Johanson told the Portside Messenger he had raised his concern about the woman’s age with bar staff on the ship but had since mentioned it to only one senior Labor MP about two months ago. “If I’ve offended Kevin in any way I’d be most happy to make a public apology,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything derogatory at all. At no point did I suggest anything untoward, sexual or otherwise. I’ve always got on really well with Kevin. I’m his biggest supporter in Port Adelaide.”

Mr Johanson said the altercation at the Clipsal 500 was mostly about Wang Wang’s anger over an open letter to residents from Port Enfield CEO Harry Wierda, published as an advertisement in the Portside Messenger. The letter attacked Wang Wang for not doing enough to revitalise the Port town centre, after Wang Wang had made the same criticism of the council. Mr Johanson said he was “the innocent party” because he had no part in writing the letter and was only told of it by Mr Wierda shortly before it was published. Fair dinkum, what a joke, trying to revitalise Port is like revitalising Amy Winehouse.

Wang Wang, from here on in known as Fucking Foley, also has been known to love a phonecall. In 2009, Fucking Foley racked up a $22,000 taxpayer-funded mobile phone bill in 12 months while planning a horror budget which slashed public service jobs, increased rent for Housing Trust pensioners and condemned The Parks Community Centre. Staff in Fucking Foley's office also tallied up phone costs of $18,000 with one former adviser, Daniel Romero, ringing up nearly $10,000 on the taxpayer tab. Throughout 2009, Fucking Foley was warning South Australians they needed to be frugal and expect the pain of cutbacks in light of the global financial crisis. However, that call for prudent management did not seem to extend to his BlackBerry. His 2009 mega mobile bill easily outpaced his boss Media Mike Rann-Chantelois's known bills and was double the amount former prime minister Kevin Krudd spent during his globe-trotting year in 2008. The bill outstripped any federal minister, including Treasurer Wayne Swan-Lake in 2008. Fucking Foley's bill was the most celebrated since Labor MLC Russell “Dumb Cunt” Wortley ran up a $10,000 bill in just one month after his son used his official phone to download free sports games but was charged for the download time. Fucking Foley had spent $84,363 on his mobile since coming to power in 2002. That is a lot of fucking phonecalls to get a root.

A spokeswoman for Fucking Foley said the size of the bill was largely due to international calls, but declined to say what type of phone plan he used. Perhaps these calls were following his trip to New York when he claimed for cocktails he purchased at a New York bar as an expense to taxpayers. Receipts obtained under freedom of information laws by opposition finance spokesman Rob Lucas show Fucking Foley paid $68 and $63 respectively at the Whiskey Blue bar on two nights in August that year. He claimed half of each night's bill as an expense. It appears Fucking Foley did not leave the bar, at the W Hotel where he was staying, until late, as his bills were finalised at 12.53am and 1.33am. Funny, I wonder what sort of ministerial business he was conducting at 1.30am? Was he a) getting pissed b) getting punched out c) busy trying to get a root or d) all of the above?

In London finishing a business trip that took in Hawaii, Spain and Switzerland, Fucking Foley rang to defend himself on morning radio at the time. "I'm a very, very frugal person, very conscious of taxpayers' expense," Fucking Foley said. "If I've been in the lobby bar at midnight or half past 12 in the morning with my staff, we've had a couple of drinks at the end of a long day. I've been incredibly cautious and careful in what I've done, in ensuring the taxpayer does not pick up a bill in excess of what the taxpayer should be paying." I’d say we shouldn’t be paying one fucking cent for you getting on the turps, ya pisshead. The victim again, I suppose?

Fucking Foley's spokesman said he did not have details of who the Treasurer was drinking with on the New York trip. Let me guess, wouldn’t have been some filthy fame-seeking skank, would it?

Fucking Foley also claimed $133 in drinks - including five mojitos at $18 a pop - from an evening at Escobar, a nightspot on Adelaide's Gouger Street. His spokesman said those drinks had been with VIPs after a state dinner. Another drinks bill for a $90 bottle of wine from Alphutte restaurant in Adelaide is described on Fucking Foley's expenses list as an "after-dinner drink - business dinner". In other words, a piss-up at the taxpayers' expense. All this came after a credit card bearing his name was used to run up a $152 drinks bill at the Mile High Club bar. It turned out the card had been stolen months before. How the fuck didn’t he know the card was missing? Was it because he was a) pissed b) had just been punched out c) busy trying to get a root or d) all of the above? Fucking Foley never did explain what ministerial business he was conducting in the Adelaide CBD which justified South Australian taxpayers paying for taxi expenses home at 5am.

Even as recently as last Saturday night, old Fucking Foley was at it again, allegedly sleazing on to some young birds at a pub in the city. When the said young birds tried to take a photo of him, Fucking Foley spat the dummy big time and cracked the shits at them. Yep, he's just a lonely guy.

So as you can see, Fucking Foley has had a stellar career and it is only fitting that he be awarded the coveted Chad Medal as a parting gift. I think all South Australians will join with me in congratulating him on the win and sincerely hoping that we never have to hear another fucking peep out of this fuckwit ever again. Kevin Owen Foley – thanks for sweet fuck all and we'll all miss you like a fucking cold sore. Good-bye and farewell, fuckwit.